25
The Sheikh had to reach out and slam his palms against the tiled walls of the bathroom or else his knees would have buckled from the sublime feeling of her warm mouth enveloping his throbbing cock. He’d never been this aroused by a woman—perhaps not even this aroused by this woman—and he groaned shamelessly as he looked down on her head bobbing back and forth as she sucked him.
“Ya Allah,” he groaned, holding onto the wall with one hand while grasping her head with the other, caressing her long brown tresses as he watched her from above. “By God, who are you, woman?”
She sucked him once more and then pulled out, a long trail of saliva connecting her lower lip to his shining masthead. Then she looked up at him, getting up off her knees and into a squat, her thick thighs spreading out wide to support her weight. He could see her breasts perfectly from above, round and heavy, creamy white with dark red nipples as big as saucers, and the sight of her cushioned mound visible past her cleavage was so erotic that the Sheikh almost choked as he tried to speak.
“Who are you?” he muttered again as she smiled up at him, her brown eyes narrowed, her lips looking red and full, delicious like that apple in the Garden of Eden.
“Your whore,” she whispered up at him, and as she said the words she reached between her open legs and touched herself, dragging her fingers lengthwise along her slit, gathering her own wetness. She held her fingers up for him to see, and then she coated his erection with her juices, rubbing him with long strokes as she massaged his hanging balls from beneath. “Tonight I’m your whore, Amir.”
And then suddenly he was coming, out of nowhere and everywhere, an orgasm so powerful the Sheikh almost blacked out on his feet as the blood rushed down to bring him to a climactic hardness that was unlike anything he’d experienced. He swayed on his feet as he felt his balls deliver his load, tightening at the caress of her warm palm as he jerked his hard body back and forth, pouring his warm semen onto her creamy white breasts as she milked him back and forth with her other hand, all the while looking up into his eyes, her legs still spread in that erotic squat that would be burned into his memory forever.
“Min ‘ant ya amra’atan!” he muttered as she jerked him to full climax, massaging his balls all the way through in a way that sent waves of hot ecstasy through the Sheikh, rocking him back and forth as he finished on her perfect breasts. “Min ‘anat.”
“Oh God, Amir,” she whispered, glancing down at her sticky breasts and then up at his throbbing cock, finally into his eyes as he pushed out the last of his load and then went to his knees in front of her. “Come here.”
He grunted as he leaned forward on his knees, pulling her into him, and Lora laughed as she put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. Suddenly she was that modest librarian again, he thought. A whore one moment, a lady the next. Ya Allah, and it felt so genuine, so natural, so real. Who was this woman? Perhaps even she did not know who she truly was, yes?
“I’m getting you all wet and sticky,” she whispered against his neck as her breasts pressed against his bare chest.
“I can see that. No matter, because now I will be getting you all wet and sticky, Miss Langhorne. I just need a minute to recover from what you just did to me.”
She giggled, and he could feel the delighted embarrassment in the way her body shook against his. He pulled her closer, his hands sliding beneath her naked rump, parting her cheeks as he slid his fingers along her rear crack, making her gasp and draw her head back.
He kissed her lips as he kneaded her buttocks with his strong hands, and soon she was kissing him back with fury and abandon, moaning and gasping as he brought one hand around to her front and began to rub her mound, pushing against her clit and labia with his knuckles until he could feel her wetness coating his hand down to the wrist.
“There we go, my queen,” he whispered as he spread her lips with his fingers. “There we go.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” she whispered as she broke from his kiss to take a breath of air. “Your queen?”
“Use your imagination,” he grunted. “Why do you think I am here? To fuck you, claim my child, and then disappear?” He felt her flinch at his language, and he grinned as he slid his middle finger into her, resting his thumb on her clit. “Or am I here to claim you? To claim my woman. To claim my queen. To claim my . . . whore.”
And he curled his middle finger up against the front wall of her vagina as he said it, tapping her clit and pushing his tongue into her mouth all at the same time. And then she came, with a moan and a shudder, her wetness pouring out of her onto his palm like a slowly flooding river, her body tensing up as the Sheikh slid a second finger into her cunt and drove back and forth until she was a writhing mess of woman, thrashing against his hard body as he held her through her climax.
“There we go,” he said again as she collapsed against him, her soft body still jerking from the death throes of her orgasm. “Let it out, Lora. Let it out, and let me in.”